I woke up this morning with my brain taking poisons and remedies on autopilot. All morning I watched the tiny vials of coloured liquid go down with no way of predicting their effect. There was a small storm inside me tearing down buildings and burning villages. This is the after shock of seeing Elliot. This is why there will come a day when I need to walk away and never think of him again, it will be the very same day that he falls in love with someone I could never be.
I should be cooking or eating or placing things on shelves. I should be unwrapping the manuscript and doing what a writer should. A writer writes so I guess that makes me something else, a loner, an observer, a flaneur, a rattled woman with infinite hollows and desert glare but not a writer. Not today.
I should be cooking or eating or placing things on shelves. I should be unwrapping the manuscript and doing what a writer should. A writer writes so I guess that makes me something else, a loner, an observer, a flaneur, a rattled woman with infinite hollows and desert glare but not a writer. Not today.
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I wish it was that part of The Experiment.